After he eventually came out of the spell, Aenor no longer wanted to converse with anyone.  With hands that trembled almost imperceptibly, he pulled one of his books of healing magic out of his bag and opened it to a random page.

Sithra was getting bored.  She started whistling one of favorite songs, [i]New York Minute[/i] by Don Henley.  True, it was a sad song, but she liked it nonetheless.